


The Greatest International Mutant GISHWHES Team the World Has Ever Seen

by justkatherinetheokay



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Father, Erik is a Shark, GISHWHES, GISHWHES is ridiculous, I'm not used to writing crack or fluff so this is inevitably going to get a little snarky, M/M, Multi, SO, So is Charles, apologies in advance I guess, jump the shark, thank Emily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkatherinetheokay/pseuds/justkatherinetheokay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My sister is doing GISHWHES this year (2200 miles away from me aahhhhhh tears) and she brought to my attention that one of the items on the list is "jump the shark".<br/>This snowballed from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TheUncannyXLFSMHMSSGMBCMTeamExtraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rose_rawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_rawr/gifts).



Prologue: Saturday

  


_So, who's going to bite Luis Suarez?_

Charles Xavier, telepath, from New York, set down his phone in favor of his laptop and watched as the familiar dots, one at a time, blinked into green existence in the chat sidebar. 

Emma Frost, telepath, in Boston: _List is up, people, get on it!_ A private window flashed up, too: _I'm on my way. Be a dear and look out for my interests, won't you?_ Charles typed back, _Sure. See you tonight._

Angel Salvadore, human dragonfly, from New York: _Get off my ass, Emma, I'm at work._

Armando Muñoz, evolution personified, from New Jersey: _Same, I'll check it later._

Logan Howlett, human wolverine, from Alberta: _Here's the Google Doc, Chuck. I've claimed my share. See you next Saturday._ His green dot vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Every year, without fail. Charles grinned. 

Hank McCoy, human beast, from Illinois: _FIGHTER. JET. HELL. YES._

Alex Summers, laser hula hoops, from Hawaii: _Yeah, we've got the Lego dinner._

Scott Summers, laser eye beams, also from Hawaii: _I CALL MAKING THE TURKEY._

Jean Grey, telepath/kinetic, from New York: _So, Professor X, when is the New York cohort meeting up?_ Charles replied, _Ask Raven. She's decided I'm not even capable of handling my own schedule this year._ Jean sent back a grinning emoticon. Of course she thought that was funny. 

Ororo Munroe, human storm, from Kenya: _Just going to bed, actually. I'll look at it tomorrow. Save me something good._

Betsy Braddock, telepath/kinetic, from Essex: _Suppertime here, sorry all. Be back later._

Sean Cassidy, human supersonic jet, from Ireland: _Cat food food truck. Sweetness. I'm on it._ If it were anyone else, Charles would have been frightened. But this was Sean. For Sean, a food truck selling cat food was relatively normal. 

Moira McTaggert, ‘token human’, from DC: _Google Doc? Excellent. Can we start claiming them?_ Charles: _Absolutely. Everyone who can, and hasn't already, should go ahead and pick their first item, starting... now._ Sean, Hank, and the Summers boys had already chosen, while Logan had claimed nearly a quarter of the list all by himself, and others began to pop up one by one. For himself, Charles took just one glance before claiming 68—take a picture with someone whose first name is a noun. Easy. Running down the list to see who had claimed what, he grinned when he saw that 37 was taken. 

Erik Lehnsherr, human magnet, from New York, said nothing on Facebook, but instead flashed up on his phone. One new message. 

_Logan._ That was all. Charles still smiled. Then another message appeared. 

_Obviously._ Now he laughed. 

"How's Erik doing?" said Raven, strolling into the living room. Charles looked up. 

"Huh?" 

"You're grinning at your phone like an idiot," his sister remarked. "There is only one person who makes you do that." She smirked. Charles tried very hard not to blush. 

"Oh, shut up!" Now Raven grinned. It was an evil grin. 

"This year's going to be _fun_."


	2. Assignments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Emma Frost, the Statue of Liberty, and a Popcorn Child Monster.

Sunday

1 AM 

  


Charles Xavier had shut down his computer—they had all seen the list, which was mostly assigned; he had made sure to save some good ones for Emma, who was driving; and Erik had left Skype four hours ago to put Lorna to bed, so there really was no point in staying up—and was about to head to bed, when there was a knock on the front door. 

“I’m not getting it,” said Raven without looking up from her own laptop. 

“Of course not.” Charles sighed, decided he could stand to be seen in his pajamas just this once, and went to answer it. On his doorstep, as he had known as soon as he got within range, was Emma Frost. He instantly regretted the decision, and in the same instant, she picked up on it. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the onslaught. 

“Nice pajamas,” she said, looking him up and down. 

“What do you want?” 

“That’s not a very nice way to greet a dear friend,” said Emma sweetly. Charles sighed. 

“I already know what you’re going to say, Emma.” 

“Of course you do.” She smiled. The look, on her, was slightly predatory. “It’s good to see you, Charles.” 

“It’s good to see you, too,” he replied, if grudgingly. “Do come in, won’t you?” 

“I’d love to.” She strolled over the threshold and past him, setting a white suitcase next to the door. “Evening, Raven.” 

“Morning.” Raven still didn’t look up. 

“So,” said Charles. “You just got in? How was the drive?” 

“It was a drive.” 

“Fair enough. Do you want anything? Coffee?” 

“This late?” Emma shook her head. “No, I just want to go to bed. But first I want to know what’s going on, and see what you’ve picked for me.” 

“Well, we’re meeting the rest of New York tomorrow morning,” said Charles, “so we’ve all agreed to try and get at least one thing each done by then.” 

“And my items?” 

“Well…” he paused. “Actually, my computer’s asleep for the night—” 

“Boo.” 

“Here, then, look at it on my phone.” He pulled up the Google Doc and handed her the device, flopping down to sit cross-legged on the couch. Emma sat beside him, scrolling. 

“Invisible car? Really?” She shook her head. “Thanks a little.” 

“If anyone can pull it off…” 

“True. Oh, Shakespeare in the Park, that should be fun, and we can do it, too… Smoke and mirrors, oh, Charles, _thank you_ —” she kissed his cheek—then—“I’m sorry, urban blight gingerbread house?” 

“Sean didn’t want it.” 

“And you think I’m the next best option?” Emma asked doubtfully. “You know who has just the disposition for that? Erik.” 

“Perhaps, but you know who also has a _six-year-old_?” 

“True.” She sighed. Emma and Erik had joined Charles’ newly-formed team the previous year, coming from the one other mostly-mutant GISHWHES team after a rather unpleasant experience in 2012 with Hellfire member Sebastian Shaw, not to mention Erik’s divorce. Emma had stayed with Erik then, but in November he finally got partial custody of his daughter, the spare room in his apartment becoming hers, so this year here she was. “So,” Emma added, tossing Charles’ phone into his lap, “after tomorrow, do we have a game plan yet?” 

”I’m working on the schedule,” said Raven, eyes still glued to her screen, fingers typing away. Charles laughed. It was like this last year, too: Raven refused to sign up, declaring the whole thing “ridiculous”, protesting that she “didn’t even watch Supernatural”, though actually neither did he—it was his students who brought GISHWHES to his attention. Then as soon as the list came out she changed her tune entirely, instead declaring herself their manager and chasing around after Charles and the rest of the team who lived in New York to film and photograph everything. “Hey, don’t mock me,” she said. “It’s more efficient this way. Besides, you weirdos need all the help you can get.” 

“And it’s the family business,” said Charles slyly. _Now_ Raven deigned to glare at him over the top of her screen. 

“I am not watching it.” 

“You’d like it,” said Emma. 

“Says who?” 

“It has attractive men in it,” Charles pointed out. 

“Then why don’t _you_ watch it?” Raven snapped, her patience evidently wearing a little thin, and Emma’s attention came back to Charles. 

“Wait,” she said. “You’re gay?” 

“Bisexual.” Charles ducked to look at his phone, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Oh,” said Emma, smiling mysteriously. “Excellent.” Charles glanced at her suspiciously. 

“Why…?” he asked. She shrugged. He turned back to his phone. “All right then. Raven, do we have condiments?” 

“Yes.” 

“And are you particularly attached to the idea of eating said condiments?” Raven shrugged. 

“We can always buy more.” 

“Good.” He scrolled further. “Emma, have you ever been to the Statue of Liberty?” 

“No…?” 

“Then I know what we’re doing tomorrow,” said Charles decisively. Emma and Raven kept exchanging looks, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of them. “Raven, make 176 our Sunday. I’m going to bed.” 

“Good night,” said Raven. As he left, he heard snatches of a whispered, hurried, quickly-picked up conversation, one they slid into almost as quickly as if they had been carrying it on before, mentally… 

“So wait, he’s really—?” 

“Yeah, why are you so excited about it?” 

“Because—” 

Charles rolled his eyes. Raven had been interfering in his love life for years; so now Emma wanted to join in, too. One more wouldn’t make much difference. 

He’d just have to keep his barriers a little tighter than usual for the next week, he decided, pulling the covers over his ears to drown out any further noise from the front. If the new interference was going to come from another telepath—and Emma, of all people. Honestly, Emma was the last person on earth who should know how he felt about… 

He woke the next morning to two new messages, both from Erik. He opened them as he walked out to the living room. The first read, _the Popcorn Child Monster has been sighted._ The next was a photo. Charles opened it to see a little girl with bright-green hair crouched on a steel counter, covered in popcorn, curling her fingers into claws and making a face that was meant to be terrifying but mostly came off as adorable. 

Charles forced his face out of the stupid grin when he felt Emma awakening. No, Emma couldn’t know. He sighed. This week was going to be like walking a tightrope. 

“Okay,” said Raven, running in ahead of Emma, “I’ve got all the old bedsheets I could find. Now we just have to make a crown.” 

“We can buy one of the crappy ones for tourists,” said Charles. “It’ll be funnier that way.” Raven paused to consider it. 

“True,” she said, and vanished back into the maze of bedrooms. 

Never mind a tightrope, actually, Charles thought. Perhaps this week would be just hectic enough to keep Emma off the scent. 

He certainly hoped so. It wouldn’t do to have such a complication come up now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For such a smart guy, and a telepath on top of it, Charles is rather oblivious sometimes.


	3. The Mysterious Landshark of Westchester County

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first time this week Erik has been roped into being a shark. From the way Emma and Raven keep giggling every time his back is turned, he has a feeling it won't be the last.

Sunday

  


The New York cohort met, per Raven’s instructions, at 7 AM. That was fine by Erik: to Lorna, going out for breakfast was like a special treat before he took her to her mother’s for the week. Others were… less pleased. 

“I am a college student,” said Jean, slumping down into the booth. “7 AM is when college students go to _bed_ in the summer.” 

“Now, Jean, is that really something you want your 8 AM professor hearing?” Charles asked cheerfully, appearing nearly out of nowhere with Raven, Emma, and a rather worryingly large tote bag. Erik moved over slightly to indicate there was room beside him and tried not to let on that his heart had just leapt into his throat. 

“You were a student more recently than any of the other profs,” said Jean. “And you’re not my 8 AM professor yet.” 

“Well, then, let’s put one of those last three weeks to good use!” said Charles. “Shall we get to it?” 

“Or we could eat first,” said Angel dryly. Charles wilted slightly. Many on the team found his enthusiasm, if endearing, rather obnoxious. Erik never understood why: he found it _adorable_. Still, he found himself agreeing with Angel. 

“Everyone will be in a better mood once we’ve eaten,” he said. “Then we’ll all be in a position to at least _try_ to be as cheerful as you, Charles.” That earned him a beaming, blue-eyed smile that left him slightly breathless, and from the rest of the table, a series of knowing smirks that he ignored. Charles slid into the space next to him, and Raven’s sitting down made him scoot closer yet; that was all that mattered. 

“Okay!” said Raven, once the food was mostly gone and her impatience could win out. “I have your schedules, as claimed.” She set the stack of printouts in the middle of the diner table, avoiding Jean’s boredom-born ‘sculpture’ of condiment bottles and the parts of Lorna’s maple syrup spill that Erik hadn’t managed to clean up yet. Giving up on that project, he dumped a stack of napkins on it and reached over his daughter’s head for a schedule to peruse. 

“Schedules?” said Angel. “Seriously? You’re not even on the team, Raven.” 

“Well, no, not _officially_.” Raven shrugged. “But you’re all going to be too busy doing crazy sh—stuff—” she corrected just in time, with a guilty glance at Lorna, “to get all the documentation done. Someone needs to hold the camera.” 

“Erik doesn’t need someone to hold the camera,” Emma pointed out. 

“Erik is the special exception,” said Raven. “I notice he’s here anyway.” 

“It’s a sign of the depth of my love for you all,” said Erik. Emma and Raven glanced at each other, suddenly wearing identical sly smiles. He decided to ignore that. Emma knew far more about him, after all, than he appreciated. 

“’Kay, well, anyway,” said Jean, “I need to get started. See you all later.” Angel left not long after that. Erik was stuck on his first item, labeled ‘The Mysterious Landshark of Westchester County.’ 

“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up and pointing to it. Emma grinned. 

“You’re our Bigfoot, Sharky.” Erik stared at her. 

“No,” he said flatly. 

“But—” 

“Make Raven do it. It makes a lot more sense, anyway.” Emma put her hands on her hips and looked down at him sternly. 

“Erik, you _know_ the rules say no mutations. Raven can’t turn into a monster any more than I can pull a White Queen on this one.” 

“Wouldn’t it be fantastic if you could, though?” said Charles rather excitedly. “The Diamond Woman of Westchester! Great production. We could find the most upscale place—” 

“Wouldn’t that be _our_ place?” Raven put in dryly. 

“It would be fun,” said Emma, “but Mr. Landshark—excuse me, Lehnsherr—” 

“Ha, ha.” Erik shook his head. “I’m not _that_ scary, am I?” 

“We’ll just get you really mad,” said Raven. “That’ll do it.” 

“Daddy’s not scary!” Lorna put in, standing up on the seat as she leapt to his defense. “Daddy’s nice.” 

“Thanks, Lor.” Erik caught her as she stumbled. “Try not to fall over, sweetie?” His daughter stuck his tongue out at him. He made the same face back, and caught Raven badly suppressing a giggle. That put the likelihood of his cooperation even lower. 

“Erik—” Emma started to say— 

“Make Charles do it,” Erik said over her. “He was something ghastly for Halloween, he’s got to have kept the costume, he’ll—suffice.” 

“Thanks for your support,” said Charles, as sarcastic as Charles ever got, and Erik jumped—he hadn’t meant it like that—but when he looked at him, his eyes were amused and unhurt. “Won’t you do it, Erik, please? We all know how terribly menacing you can be when you try, and it’ll be—funny.” Erik looked at him for a long moment. Charles just smiled at him, blue eyes wide and hopeful. 

“Fine,” he finally said, carefully avoiding Emma’s eyes. “Let me drop off Lorna, and I’ll meet you wherever in half an hour.” 

“Great!” said Charles. “Actually, can it be a bit more than that? We have one we ought to get over with this morning.” 

“Sure.” Erik shrugged. “It’s not _my_ Sabbath. Anything goes. Just text me when.” 

“Okay, well, now that that’s settled,” said Raven, “Charles, Emma, let’s go. We’ve got a ferry to catch.” 

“A ferry?” Erik asked, curious. 

“Statue of Liberty,” said Emma. 

“For the statue one?” 

“Got Emma’s costume right here,” said Raven, hefting the bag. 

“Oh.” Erik frowned. “Can you wait a half-hour? That sounds like fun.” Emma looked absolutely horrified. 

“ _You_ are not coming,” she said. “Not after last time.” 

“What happened last time?” Charles looked from one to the other. 

“Nothing,” they said in unison. “It’s fine,” Erik added. “I’ll just see you all later.” He waited for Raven and Charles to slide out of the booth before he bothered moving. Lorna tried to clamber right over the table, but Erik picked her up before she could. She squirmed. 

“Daddy, let me _down_!” 

“Don’t climb on furniture in public places,” he said, and did. When he looked up, Charles was gazing at him with an odd smile. “What?” said Erik, looking around for some source of the amusement. Charles shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said. “Oh, Erik, a thought—one you might do between now and then, especially since you didn’t have coffee with your breakfast—” he leaned in to point at the Starbucks one. His fingers brushed over Erik’s where he held the page, which, of _course_ , fluttered out of his suddenly-slackened grip. “Oh—oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Charles caught it and handed it back, visibly flustered. 

“No harm done,” Erik managed. Raven and Emma had continued walking, and were now standing just inside the door. Emma looked positively, evilly, delighted. Erik glared at her, then at the page, searching for something, anything, to distract him. He took Lorna’s hand and studied the description for the Starbucks video as they left the diner. “Wait—what weird name am I supposed to give them?” Emma’s evil smirk turned into an evil grin. 

“Oh, I think you know,” she said. Erik stopped dead. 

“Yeah,” he said, “no. Like he—ck—I’m ordering for coffee for ‘Magneto the Magnificent, Master of Magnetism’—” 

“All right, admittedly, none of us had high hopes for you actually completing that one,” Charles sighed. “I’m sure Jean or someone—” 

“Maybe someone who actually patronizes Starbucks?” Erik suggested— 

“—will come up with something,” Charles finished, shaking his head. 

“Even if he doesn’t, it’s only worth 40 points,” Raven said reasonably. “Middle-range.” 

“Yes,” said Charles, “but it is rather simple for so many points, and I'm sure the Avengers already have it covered. That—fool—Stark comes up with the most ridiculous nicknames, and more importantly, he has no shame.” 

“I like Iron Man!” Lorna piped up. “He’s funny when he’s on TV.” 

“If only he had a kid, Lorna,” said Emma. “Then you’d have someone to tell, ‘my dad can beat up your dad’.” Now Erik laughed. 

“True,” he said, glancing at his phone. “Okay, we have to go, but I will see you three later.” 

“Starbucks!” Charles called in reply before they vanished around a corner. Erik stood there for a moment staring after them, before Lorna tugged at his hand. 

“Let’s go, Daddy!” she said. “Mom will be mad if we’re late.” 

“True.” A short drive, a terse conversation, and a hug goodbye later, he drove all the way past the nearest Starbucks before he stopped, turned around, and parked. 

Erik sat in the car for a minute, glaring at the steering wheel. Emma was going to give him hell for this, since it was Charles who had asked. Which—she may have had a point—but if she did, he definitely wasn’t going to admit it. 40 points was a lot, and this _was_ easy. Aside from his dignity and three dollars, it had a relatively low cost. 

“Grande Americano,” he said flatly when it was his turn to order. The barista nodded, scribbling it down, not looking up. 

“Name?” he said. 

Erik sighed. 

  


“You’re absolutely right, by the way,” said Emma later, back at the house. Raven was sitting at the kitchen table, video editing. Charles had gone grocery shopping. 

“Hmm?” 

“I wasn’t quite sure when we discussed it before, but after seeing them today there’s no denying it.” 

“Oh.” Raven smiled at the screen, where, in the video, Erik had just ‘noticed’ that they were filming him, and was turning menacingly toward the camera as Charles and Emma moved slowly away. “Charles and Erik? I know.” Now he ran at her, snapping at the lens with those teeth—god, were they some kind of secondary mutation? Surely humans didn’t have _that_ many—and she had carefully maneuvered so it looked as if it had been tossed to the ground. Now she would just need a static effect to cut to at the end. She watched what happened after that, now, as she picked up the camera again. It caught Charles falling to the ground, laughing, and Erik scrambling to help him up, somewhere between sheepish and horrified. The sound was off for now, but Raven could read their lips. _Oh, I’m so sorry, are you all right? Yes, thank you, I’m quite well, actually—_

“They’re perfect for each other,” said Emma smugly. Raven nodded even as she selected the footage and hit _delete_. 

“And, conveniently, both interested,” she said, looking up. Emma nodded. 

“Not that either one of them realizes it. They both think they’re unrequited.” 

“Well,” said Raven, “we have a week. Ish." 

"For ten thousand points, get two members of your team to realize they're madly in love." Emma grinned. "What’s the plan, manager?”


End file.
